


Presents Under The Tree

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Lucy is impatient, Mentions of Lucy's parents, and Tim is smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: “I’ve been watching the Broncos wipe the field with the Lions,” Tim shrugs and pretends not to notice what Lucy is getting at.“Or …" She draws the word out and steps toward him, eyes twinkling. “We could open presents.”--In which Lucy just wants to know what Tim got her for Christmas, and Tim insists on waiting for Christmas Day.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	Presents Under The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt "you can wait 24 more hours for your present." 
> 
> You should all know that I'm picturing Tim's mother as the actress who played Mrs. Hayfer in Drake and Josh. Many thanks to the lovely friends who helped me figure out what the perfect gifts would be; you all know who you are. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lucy scrapes the last bite of lasagna from her plate, smiling at Tim when he stands up and reaches for the empty dish. He stacks it with his own, rinses them both off in the sink and starts loading the dishwasher. She joins him when she’s finished her drink, stands elbow-to-elbow with him over the sink basin and rinses off the sudsy dishes he passes over. It’s become an easy routine these last few months, one more way for them to squeeze a few more minutes out of their evenings together. 

When the kitchen is cleaned up, the dishes dried and put away, they end up on the couch. Lucy curls herself against Tim’s side, head pillowed on his chest. Tim wraps his arm around her shoulders, toying idly with the ends of her hair. 

She’d picked the remote up as soon as they sat down, and the living room is suddenly echoing with high-pitched cartoon voices. Tim looks at the screen and sees a pair of fuzzy-looking animated reindeer. 

“Rudolph?” He asks, turning his head just far enough to brush a kiss across Lucy’s temple. 

“It’s a _classic,”_ she argues. 

“Did I say it wasn’t?” Tim pulls her a little bit closer to him. “Pick whatever you want, I’m not paying attention to the TV.” He runs his hand up and down Lucy’s arm, and he feels her relax and smile against him as the Christmas special plays. 

Tim had been telling the truth: he’s not focused on the screen. Why would he be, when he can focus on the way Lucy fits against him? On the knowledge that she could have been anywhere else tonight, but she’s spending her Christmas Eve with him. He’s never cared about the “holiday” before, the decision to celebrate the 24th of December simply because it’s the day before the 25th. Isabel had always liked Christmas, had decorated around the house, baked a plate of cookies for roll call, watched a couple of the TV movies every year. 

But Tim has never known anyone who’s as excited for Christmas as Lucy. She’d started dropping hints about tinsel and trees the week after Halloween. He’d put her off until after Thanksgiving, but she’d started letting the holiday spirit trickle in as soon as they’d gotten off work that Friday. She’d followed him home from the station, as has become their routine on the days they don’t ride in together, and pulled a red and green striped tote from the trunk of the Datsun. 

“Don’t worry,” she’d said, “It’s just a couple of movies and a blanket.” She’d been honest about the contents of the bag, but Tim absolutely should have been worried. 

Because now, he’s sitting on the couch with her on Christmas Eve, watching a Claymation reindeer find his place on Santa’s team. There’s a tree in the corner, a real tree, dropping its needles all over his living room. The multicolor lights are flickering off the walls, illuminating the stockings Lucy had draped over the end of his small bookcase. 

Barely eight months, and she’s already taking it upon herself to decorate his house for the holidays. 

And he _likes it._ He’d be lying if he said he wasn't excited about Christmas this year, that the colorful garlands and fresh pine fragrance didn’t put him in a good mood. 

It’s a little bit of Lucy’s energy, in every minute of his day, even when she’s not there. 

But right now, she is here, sliding an arm around his waist to hold him, just the way he’s holding her. He glances back at the screen, checks that commercials are flickering through the room before he dares to say anything, lest he interrupt her viewing. 

“So, you’re with your parents tomorrow, and I’m having lunch with my mom?” Tim waits for Lucy to nod against him. “I’ve got a ham to put in the oven, we’ll have our own little celebration for dinner?” 

Lucy murmurs something affirmative, and Tim takes it as an invitation to reach across his body and draw her legs over his lap. His hand traces slow, gentle paths up and down her thigh. It's an idle movement, relaxed and lazy as they settle in for a quiet evening together. 

“Mmm,” she sighs contentedly, shifting her body closer to Tim’s. “Do I have to wait until then for my present?” Tim looks down at her and sees that she’s craning her neck to see the tree behind them. There are a handful of boxes underneath, neatly wrapped in identical paper, but one in particular that had caught Lucy’s eye the day he’d set it out for her to see. He’s seen her looking at it a handful of times since, but every time she’s asked what it is, he’s taken it gently from her hands and put it back, reminded her that waiting is supposed to be half the fun. 

“Yes.” He kisses her forehead, smiling against her skin when she whines. 

“Tim!” She draws his name into a whole breath’s worth of syllables. “They're _right there!”_

“And they’ll still be there tomorrow night.” Tim squeezes Lucy’s leg gently, a short pause along its path. 

“That’s so far away! They’ve already been under the tree for two weeks!” 

“So one more day is practically nothing in comparison,” Tim reasons. Lucy whines again, turning her face into his chest. “You can wait 24 hours. Now hush, I love this scene.” 

“You didn’t even want to watch Rudolph.” Lucy looks up at him, but she’s smiling, so he knows that she’s taken his teasing for what it is. 

“Shh,” He circles his hand around the bend of her knee. 

“If I’m quiet, can I have my present tonight?” 

“Hmm,” Tim pretends to consider the question, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “No. But,” He continues, when he sees the offended look on Lucy’s face. “Maybe I’ll give you _something else_ before bed.” 

Tim lets go of her leg, reaching out to draw her face in and kiss her deeply. She leans up into it and opens her mouth when he nips at her bottom lip. 

They don’t make it to the end of the movie. 

* * *

Tim wakes up the next morning when the mattress shifts underneath him. His eyes fly open, and he’s halfway sat up before he realizes that it’s just Lucy stretching the sleep out of her limbs beside him. 

He lets the air out of his lungs, the brief surge of panic out of his mind, as he sits up the rest of the way. Lucy meets him there, tucking herself against his side as he looks down to kiss her good morning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he says against her lips. She pulls back just far enough to smile at him. 

“Merry Christmas, Tim.” In a single fluid motion, Lucy throws one of her legs across Tim’s lap and pushes against his shoulders until he tips back onto the mattress. They’re both laughing when he reaches for her hips, steadying her against himself as he thinks about just how merry his Christmas morning can be. 

Half an hour later, he’s fixing breakfast for them both while Lucy hurries to get ready to leave. He hears the shower turn off, and the bathroom door open, then calls out to her. 

“Breakfast is up. Cheese omelet and bacon.” Lucy rounds the corner, squeezing her hair into a towel so it doesn’t drip onto his T-shirt hanging from her shoulders. She opens her mouth, scanning the counters for something, but he beats her to the punch. “Oh, and coffee.” 

She takes the mug he presses into her hands, draining close to a third of it in one drink. 

“Thank God,” she sighs, when she finally puts the drink down and reaches for one of the plates. They eat quietly, both knowing that Lucy doesn't have time for table talk this morning. As it is, she finishes the last bite of her food and glances at her phone, then stands up suddenly. “Oh! I’ve got to … OK, if I take the highway it’s 27 minutes, and I said I’d be there by 10:30 …" 

“Boot. Stop trying to do the math,” Tim stands too, clearing their plates and moving to stand in front of her. “You loaded the car yesterday, right?” She nods. “Then get your shoes on; call them from the road if you need to.” 

Tim takes her purse from her, holding it while she scrambles for the boots she’d planned to wear today. Her fingers are chilly against his forearm when she reaches out to use him for balance while she works the zippers, so he covers them with his free hand. It won’t last for long, he knows, because Lucy is about to go rushing out the door. 

But it’s a quiet moment of stillness between them, as she puts her feet back on the floor and rolls up to her toes. With the heels giving her a head start, there’s only a couple of inches left to cover before Lucy is pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

She pulls away, drawing her fingers slowly across Tim’s chest. 

“See you tonight,” Lucy says as she steps back and takes her purse from his hand. “And don’t think I forgot about my present.” 

She tosses the sentence over her shoulder as the door closes, leaving no room for Tim to say anything in reply. He rolls his eyes affectionately, and turns to clean up the kitchen. 

It’s quieter when Lucy is gone. Tim notices it almost right away, how the house feels less lively when she’s not in it, even if she isn’t even in the same room. 

He puts the TV on in the background while he’s tidying up, letting it fill some of the quiet. Still, the cool winter air is a welcome change when he steps out the door, truck keys and gift bag in hand. 

Four hours later, he’s following his mother around the local mall, nodding amicably as she points out slacks and sweaters and dress shirts. 

They’d shared a lovely lunch, soup and sandwiches at her favorite bistro, before he’d passed the bag across the table. When she’d pulled out the hardback copy of her favorite author’s newest book, her face had lit up and she’d called him her “sweet boy,” but he’d successfully hidden both the eye roll _and_ the blush behind a sip of his coffee. 

“And you know, honey, it’s just so hard to know what to buy for you these days. So I was thinking we could go to the mall, let you pick out whatever you wanted?” 

“Mom, it’s Christmas Day. Is the mall even open?” 

“The Google said they’re open until 5 o’clock today.” 

She’d looked so excited about it that Tim couldn’t bring himself to tell her no. After all, she _is_ his mother, and he’s been reminding himself that he needs to carve out more time to spend with her. She only lives halfway across town, but he sees her maybe every two or three months. He wants to make good on that promise, even if he’d only made it to himself. 

So off they go, his mother promising that they’ll be done by 4:45 at the latest. 

Never mind that his ham needs to be in the oven by 4, if it’s going to be ready when Lucy gets back from her own family holiday. 

“Oh, what about this? Isn’t this lovely?” She points at a bright blue dress shirt, and Tim tries not to grimace. 

“It’s … colorful,” he offers, thumbing through a rack of solid-colored sweaters. “I’m not much of a brights guy, Mom. Maybe we find something a little more earthy?” 

Which is how, 20 minutes later, at 10 minutes until 5 o’clock, they’re walking out of the store together and Tim is carrying a shopping bag with two sweaters and a new hoodie, all in various shades of dark green, navy and maroon. It’s a nice compromise, things he might actually wear at some point, and the smile on his mother’s face at spending a whole afternoon together. 

He _really_ needs to do this more often. 

But not right now, when he’s still staring down close to a half-hour drive before he can even start dinner. So he kisses her cheek, wishes her a Merry Christmas and promises to call her when he gets home. 

He gets lucky on traffic, skipping rush hour because it’s the holiday (and who in their right mind would want to spend Christmas Day at the mall?). When he’s back in his kitchen, the shopping bag abandoned on the table until he’s able to get dinner started, it’s short order to preheat the oven and brush the glaze over the ham. 

At this rate, Lucy will only have to wait a couple hours or so for dinner when she gets back. He puts the new clothes in on the bed and grabs a beer before dropping onto the couch. There’s a football game on TV, he knows, and even if he doesn’t care about either of the teams that are playing, it’s still going to be better than anything else that’s on. 

Tim has just gotten settled when his phone vibrates and he digs it out of his pocket. He smiles before he even opens the message, just from seeing Lucy’s name on the screen. 

_Running late, Dad conned me into a game of chess. Let you know when I leave? Sorry about dinner._

There’s an emoji at the end of the message, a little cartoon present with a bow on top, and it makes Tim laugh around the lip of his bottle. 

_Don’t hurry,_ Tim replies. _Mom kept me most of the afternoon, dinner will hold. Enjoy your parents. Say hi for me._

She won’t, and he knows that. Just like he hadn’t said too much about Lucy with his own mother today. They’re getting closer to that point, but they aren’t there yet. Still, he knows she’ll be pleased to know that he’s thinking about her and her family. 

Suddenly, he pictures her, sitting across a table from her dad and looking at her phone over the chessboard, smiling when she reads his message. She’ll probably tuck her hair behind her ear, like Tim knows she does when he’s got her all cute and flustered. 

It’s a good look on her – though Tim has yet to find a bad one, even the way she gets all smug whenever she figures out a case before him – and Tim finds himself a couple of plays behind on the game when the image fades from his mind. There are more points on the screen than there had been, and he has no idea when either team had scored. But he doesn’t care. Not really, not when it’s not his team playing, and not when he knows Lucy will be back soon. 

Tim turns his focus back to the game, but never stops listening for his phone to go off or the door to creak open. It’s another hour later, almost through the end of the post-game show, when the hinges squeak. 

He’s on his feet before the door swings open, meeting Lucy in the entryway. She smiles the instant she sees him, her face lighting up automatically. Tim knows right away that it’s the highlight of his day, can feel himself falling even more in love with Lucy and the way she looks at him. 

“Hey,” he says softly, drawing her into his arms for a gentle kiss. “Missed you today.” 

“Mmm, I missed you too,” Lucy sighs as they pull apart, settling her head on Tim’s chest and draping her arms around his waist. “How was your mom?” 

Tim tightens his grip on Lucy’s shoulders, holding her close and kissing her forehead before he responds. 

“Good. You know, can’t just wrap a present and call it a day, so we circled the Nordstrom three times to settle on a couple of sweaters. But she’s doing good. We had a nice time. Your parents?” 

“Dad published a new study,” Lucy steps back, immediately pulling a wine glass out of the cabinet and opening the fridge in search of the rosé she's stashed inside. “There’s a signed copy in the car. Not the journal, a printout of the article; he signed in the margins.” 

Tim tries to hide his grimace, but Lucy laughs, so he figures he must not have succeeded as much as he’d hoped. (Either that, or she’s just able to see right through him.) 

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you read it,” she says over her shoulder. “Besides that, we had a nice visit. Mom and I made cookies, like every year; they’re out in the car too. And I beat him at chess. Pretty sure he didn’t even let me win this year.” 

“Yeah?” She’s so excited about the victory that Tim can’t help but chuckle as she starts gushing about the game. Lucy takes a long sip of her wine, then tips the bottle toward Tim. He’s not usually one for rosé, but if Lucy is offering, he’ll never turn it down. When he nods, she reaches for a second glass and pours. 

“Mhmm. House smells great, by the way.” She hands him the drink and leans back against the counter. 

“Should be about another hour, then we can eat.” 

“And how will we ever entertain ourselves until then?” Lucy smirks, and Tim can’t think of anything but how cute she is like this, clearly hinting at something. 

And he’s pretty sure he knows what it is. 

“I’ve been watching the Broncos wipe the field with the Lions,” Tim shrugs and pretends not to notice what Lucy is getting at. 

“Or …" She draws the word out and steps toward him, eyes twinkling. “We could open presents.” 

Tim schools his features, biting the inside of his lip lightly to keep from smiling as he deadpans. 

“Don’t you think you’ve gotten plenty of presents today? After all, you said that article is out in the car; I’m sure it’s riveting.” 

_“Tim,”_ Lucy whines, shoving his chest gently. 

She’s so caught up in her mock indignation that she doesn’t seem to notice Tim leading her across the room, the fingers of their free hands tucked together. He stops right in front of the tree, dropping her hand to reach carefully behind himself. 

“Fine,” he sighs, blindly reaching for the package he knows Lucy has been the most curious about. “I guess I’ve kept you waiting long enough.” 

He holds the present up, and Lucy gasps. One side of Tim’s mouth comes up in a smile as he leads her over to the couch. When she sits down next to him. Tim notices that she’s picked up a little gift bag, probably as she walked past the tree. She holds it out for him to take, and he passes her the present he’s been holding. 

“You first,” she insists, waving her hand at him. 

“Sure, _now_ you’re willing to wait,” Tim rolls his eyes, but there’s no keeping the smile from his face as he pulls at the tissue paper. 

He turns the bag over, tipping a little key fob into his palm. It’s a smooth leather, stamped with his initials on one side. There’s a snap at the bottom; he pulls it open to reveal a dog tag hanging inside. 

It’s etched with a picture of the two of them – Tim’s _favorite_ picture of them, if he’s honest, the one from the very beginning of their relationship. He’d invited her to a weekend carnival, finally swallowed his pride and called it a “date.” They’d been hanging out near constantly since Lucy finished the academy, but never put any sort of a title to it until then. He’d bought her cotton candy, snuck up behind her on his way back from the booth and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting the plastic sack bump against her thigh. 

Lucy had jumped, but as soon as she’d realized it was Tim, she’d started giggling. When he’d tried to move away, she’d grabbed at his arm and held him in place while she reached for her phone. Tim had rolled his eyes, but hooked his chin over her shoulder. They're both wearing sunglasses, smiling broadly from the little metal disc. It’s candid and joyful, one picture from a series of 15 or 20 Lucy had taken, culminating in Tim kissing her cheek and Lucy turning her head to fit their lips together. 

But this picture is his favorite, the leadup to that moment, their happiness radiating even from the tiny etching. 

He flips the dog tag over, revealing a calendar on the back, the 17th of June circled with a tiny heart. 

_The anniversary of that first official date._

Tim smiles at Lucy, shifting to dig his keys out of his pocket. 

“It’s perfect, Lucy.” He fiddles with the keyring to attach his gift. It’s exactly his style, nothing flashy but intensely personal. The black leather fits in wonderfully, blending in with his truck keys unless someone is looking closely to see it. “I love it.” 

He leans across the sofa to kiss her again, still relishing in the knowledge that he can do that anytime he wants to now. Because he wants to kiss her all the time, but especially now, here, like this, when it’s just the two of them, sharing the quietest parts of their lives with each other. 

“C’mon, your turn.” Tim nudges her knee with his, nodding at the present sitting in her lap. 

Lucy picks it up, pulling the silver bow off and tearing carefully into the paper. She slides a long, black velvet box into her hand and looks up. 

“Tim?” 

“Open it,” he says quietly. 

She does, revealing a thin silver chain, adorned with a little round pendant. It’s an opal, just like the ring Lucy wears almost every day now. She’d worn it often before everything that had happened last December. But since he’d tossed it back to her that day in the station gym, it’s become a staple in her wardrobe, both on and off-duty. 

Lucy runs her finger across the jewel, then looks back to Tim. Her eyes are shining with tears, just like when he’d returned the ring, a tiny smile breaking across her lips as she breathes out a teary laugh. 

She doesn’t say anything, but her face says enough. 

Tim slides across the couch cushion and tugs the box out of her grasp, gently working the necklace free of the foam lining. 

“Turn around,” he whispers. She does, pulling her hair over one shoulder. Tim fastens it around her neck, then runs his hand down from her shoulder until he’s twisting their fingers together. Lucy’s other hand comes up to slide the pendant back and forth on its chain, and he half-expects her to turn around. 

She doesn’t, though. Instead, she settles back against his chest. Tim takes the opportunity to wind his other arm around her waist and drops his chin onto her shoulder, just like he had that day at the carnival. 

“Well?” he says, feeling Lucy shiver at his breath on her ear. “Worth the wait?” 

“Every minute” she breathes, and he knows she’s not just talking about opening her present. She’s talking about every day they sat two feet from each other in the shop, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in anything but friendship; the months of secretly half-dating so they wouldn’t raise suspicion by filing paperwork the week after Lucy graduated; and every other moment in between, everything that led them to where they are right now. “Merry Christmas, Tim.” 

There are still other presents under the tree, but he figures those can wait until after dinner. For now, the only thing he wants to do is shift his hold on Lucy, tug her infinitesimally closer and press a kiss to her cheek as he whispers back. 

“Merry Christmas, Lucy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> One more Christmas fic down; stay tuned to see what I come up with next!


End file.
